


Thorns and Fate

by AgentBuzzkill



Series: Fic Requests [9]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death, king AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 20:29:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2665340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentBuzzkill/pseuds/AgentBuzzkill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate already knew what Geoff was bound to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thorns and Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous prompted: "A prophecy foretold that Geoff would be the only one who could defeat the evil Ray." 
> 
> The King AU spoke to me and I couldn't help myself.

For some, the predictions were meaningless nonsense. A way for people to cope with their lives, to make some sense of the futures stretching out before them. Regardless, the words were still whispered among those who claimed they could see the path of fate, and those who cared to listen would often find truth within them.

It was said that a young boy from a noble family would come into power. His rise would occur in the wake of great unrest, with recent wars with a neighboring kingdom having just been ended with a treaty that left neither side satisfied. Tensions would be high, the people would need someone who cared about them.

The boy would be kind and charismatic, the kind that proved himself to be a champion of the common man. He would rise from the fall of his father in battle, bred to be a king and prepared for the power thrust upon him.

He would win the hearts of his people and his court, would revive their economy and hold festivals and parties where all were welcome. They would name him Rose King, after the flowers he had grown around the palace and the kingdom itself. His rose gardens would become his favorite spot for gatherings and his own private relaxation. 

And then the power would take hold of him.

It was the nature of the crown, that weight atop his head that had a tendency to drive weaker men mad. It would begin as legitimate whispers of treason, a few members of his court that were less than pleased that he was so lavish in his treatment of the people. 

That he would answer to those whispers with the imprisonment of those who spoke against him was another matter.

His paranoia would grow after that, he would hear plots to dethrone him everywhere he went, whispers of dissent that would grow to screaming in his ears and when he began to mutter to himself his advisers took leave of their positions. His mother would try in vain to save her son, but she would make the mistake of questioning him publicly. He would see it as her attempt to undermine his power and test his authority. The murder of his mother in front of his own court would be the first blood he ever drew. 

The nobles would seem to know then, as the blood ran red across the palace floors, that they has lost their king to a darker force.

Any who dared question him would meet the same fate. He still had his guard, his armies, and as far as he knew, the support of the people. But word of his deeds would spread and make the people uneasy. The festivals would cease, heavy taxes put in place to help fund the king’s guard and palace defenses, ties would be severed with neighboring lands. The Rose King’s grip would slip, and with all of the blood being spilled he would now be more commonly referred to as the Red King.

It would be whispered that the king rarely left his throne, that he slept with his crown on. It would be said that he wore a crown of roses, that the thorns would draw blood and that the sweet smell of the flowers and the sharp copper scent of blood followed the king wherever he went.

The captain of the king’s guard, in an effort to find some way to stop the bloodshed, would seek out those who relied on prophecy in the hopes that they may tell him how the king could be stopped.

And so Geoff would find himself being told that it was up to him to end the reign of the Rose King. He would try to deny it then, would not want the responsibility of such a task. He would not see himself as fit for such a duty. 

The future-seekers neglected to mention that the king would sentence Geoff’s wife and child to death after forcing Geoff to tell him where he had been, that the king would make him watch the slaughter of his family and keep him alive for his punishment. That he would still be expected to remain loyal.

What good would telling him do, after all? Fate already knew what Geoff was bound to do.

After the fact, as Geoff sat in his quarters and mourned, the anger grew inside of him. All he could see was the blood, the king’s smirk, the look in his eyes that said he believed what he was doing was right. He could not stop hearing them scream, could not eat or sleep. 

He used those sleepless nights to plot his revenge.

The people were growing restless, angry at the king and his cruel ways. Small riots had started in the streets, quickly put down by the king’s guard. But as more people joined in, Geoff knew that they would overpower the guard. They would storm the palace and demand the head of the king, and Geoff would be expected to either put and end to the riot or give the people what they wanted.

So he waited, encouraged the king to keep pressuring the guard to be harsh, let him know that in the event of an attack the king would have full protection. Paranoia bred cowardice, after all. 

When the inevitable attack came, Geoff was ready. He escorted the king to his private rooms, dismissed the rest of the guard and locked the doors. 

The king was seated by the large windows of the room. The curtains were drawn back and Geoff could see the mob approaching the castle. They would arrive soon, needless death would happen and Geoff wanted the affair over and done as soon as possible. 

The king looked tired, Geoff noticed as he stood beside his chair. He was still a boy really, only in his twenties, and yet his eyes looked so old. The crown on his head, adorned with designs of roses made from rubies and golden thorns, seemed out of place. Too mature, too much responsibility. 

"They loved me before," the king said, and Geoff drew his dagger, kept it hidden by his side in the folds of his cape. 

"They did, my liege," he replied.

"I just wanted them to keep loving me," the king continued, "I didn’t want to have to discipline so many people." He looked up at Geoff, met his eyes. Geoff saw no emotion in them. "Especially not your family. But I had to." He looked back out at the horizon. "I had to make an example of them. I made an example of my mother, and that shut the nobility up. I made an example of your family, and here you are protecting me." He seemed to reach some resolution, sitting back in his chair and closing his eyes. "They will love me again, I’m sure of it."

Geoff swallowed hard, gathered his nerve. He raised his arm. The dagger glinted in the sunlight. 

"I’m sure they will, my liege," he said. The king smiled and nodded.

Geoff stabbed him through the neck.

The king seemed genuinely surprised, eyes flying open, grasping for Geoff’s arm with desperate hands as he gasped and gurgled for breath over the blood that bubbled up from his throat. He struggled and choked, clearly trying to call for help, but as the life drained from his eyes he remained silent. In death, Geoff noticed, he looked so young. He seemed unable to tear his gaze away from the king.

There was an insistent knock on the door. “Sir?” on of his guards called, “The people are at the steps of the palace. They demand to see the king.”

The king’s crown caught the light of the setting sun, and as Geoff watched the sparkling of the jewels he felt a deep pull in his stomach. It was a pull that made him reach out, take the crown in bloody hands and put it on his own head. He felt the weight of it settle into his skull, could sense the promise it kept. 

"Tell them he’s coming," he said to his guard.


End file.
